


Deviant Hunters: ConnorXReader (Detroit: Become Human)

by 5PL1N73R



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Android, F/M, Revolution, connorxreader - Freeform, mostly follows canon plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29273460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5PL1N73R/pseuds/5PL1N73R
Summary: Growing up you never imagined you would be hunting deviants. Or running from the cops for that matter. But here you are in 2038, stuck in the middle of a police investigation and being chased by a certain, pain-in-the-a**, android. It’s almost funny, both of you have similar missions, but the reasoning behind them? Completely different.No matter what, there’s too much at stake to be caught now.The beginning of the revolution has begun.Author Note: This story will contain swearing and some violence (I will try to keep it light). I'm always open to constructive criticism and input on what you'd like to happen in the story!Thanks for reading!Disclaimer: Based on the game Detroit: Become Human and of course there will be appearances of characters from it, I do not own them or the storyline from the game.
Relationships: Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. Rough Beginnings

Key: Y/S= Your Size

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**[Your P.O.V.]**

I shuffle my feet on the pavement still wet from earlier's rain, hearing the skritch of pebbles scraping the damp surface as I try not to focus on the familiar feeling of anxiety that always burdens my mind while scoping a place out. I look up at the white, now grey in the dark, house before me, unable to see into the blackened windows. The glare of the streetlight behind me leaves bright spots on the glass surfaces making me strain my eyes as they dart to each one, scanning for any movement but only seeing the reflection of the empty road and myself standing there. Dressed in a black pullover hoodie with the hood up completely covering my hair, paired with jeans and navy blue sneakers. An appearance typical of someone planning a break in.

Without warning, a window on the second floor opens and my heart skips a beat when a human-shaped figure appears in front of it. Yelling pierces the otherwise silent night, forcing me to dart onto the porch and below a part of overhanging roof. I couldn't risk them seeing me now. Not before I even have a chance to carry out my mission.

With a sharp inhale of breath and a slow release into the cold November air I ready myself for what lies ahead. It will be tricky but not impossible, luckily no one else is out at this time of night, allowing me to try the front door first. I move in front of it, wrapping a gloved hand around the brass handle and twisting with the slightest movement of my wrist, hoping the residents had forgotten to lock up again. It shifts a fraction of an inch before stopping. Locked, damn it. Of course it is, tonight of all nights. I search around for the few moments I can afford in case they've left a spare key under the welcome mat or perhaps under a flower pot but it's futile. I don't have time for this.

Now for plan B.

I pull my hood tighter around my face and sneak off the porch, keeping low and close to the side of the house while heading around back. Placing my feet in certain ways as to not step on the leaves and many sticks that litter the ground. I crouch underneath windows as I pass just in case there's someone in the house I hadn't taken note of. Although I am sure it's just the woman, her husband, and my target.

I make it to the back of the house and look around the damp, green lawn littered with red leaves and overgrown as if someone hadn't cut the grass in weeks. It's odd considering the residents are well off and could easily get someone to do it. I squint into the dark as I scan the yard and my eyes land on a small shed-like building in the far corner underneath a maple tree.

A dog house.

From this far away I can't tell if it's occupied or not and I don't want to find out. Keeping it in mind, I continue further with even slower steps than before. Time seems to slow as I get closer to reaching a sliding glass door, but once I'm there it only takes one glance at the mechanism on the other side to tell me it's unlocked, I grab the handle and slide it to the right. Next, I step onto the white carpeted floor, entering what appears to be a living room, I pause and take the time to slowly close the door, letting go of the handle after hearing a soft click. My heartbeat gets faster, filling the silence, and my eyes have to adjust to the near pitch black surroundings. The only sources of light to break the extensive dark is a soft glow of the television's power button and a light illuminating part of a wall at an angle. It's coming from the second floor, shining down the stairwell.

The stairs. My eyes lock onto them, that's where I need to go. While making my way over I note the layout of the house, the living room where I am, dining room to the left partially blocked by the stairs which also help form the entryway, and a hallway leads down the right.

My foot comes in contact with the first step. A deafening thunk echoes in my ears and the hairs on the back of my neck stiffen. I freeze and listen to see if anyone was alerted. A minute passes before I dare to up my right foot and place it down. A few seconds, then the left.

Nothing, no one heard it.

I ascend, quickening my pace and taking it two steps at a time, glad that the carpet dulls any noise I make. Now I can hear voices talking rather excitedly, but not in a good way, tension is practically spilling off of every word, every stressed syllable, hell even every letter. A man's voice is louder than the others, asking, "why are you doing this?"

Judging by his pause, he received an answer but I couldn't make out what it was. I have to get closer. At the top of the stairs I look down a hall that extends nearly the full length of the house. One door on the left is open with light leaching into the hall, it's only a few feet from where I stand. Once again I crouch down and shuffle forward, keeping close to the wall and pausing a few inches before the open doorway. I wait. Holding my breath. Listening for an opening to peek into the room.

I can't mess this one up, I can't afford another failure.

The voice from earlier starts up again, more desperate and panicked this time. I lean around the corner, just enough for one eye to take in the situation and only for a moment. From what I can tell my target stands the farthest away, back against the wall and holding a short woman most likely in her mid-thirties. He has one hand over her mouth and in the other, a knife. Her husband is across from them on the opposite side of the bed and close to the entryway. I duck back before any of them can spot me.

The sound of feet shuffling and a muffled gasp is my cue. Now or never. I jump to my feet and whip around the corner. The man, the husband, jumps in surprise. All eyes turn to me but I only focus on one pair. My target, the android.

"Don't do it," I warn, my voice calm yet assertive, "let the woman go." The yellow LED ring on the side of his head blinks red. He looks me up and down, trying to determine how much of a threat I am. I try to stop my heart from racing as I glance at the husband whose mouth is partly open, still in shock by my sudden appearance. "Its alright sir, I'll take care of this," I say.

"What?" He replies, shaking off the initial confusion but still filled with questions. "Who are you? You're not police, how did you get in here?" Are the only ones he can manage to choke out before I interrupt him.

"That's not important right now, I'm here to help," I say to him and then turn back to the android. Its LED is still yellow, good. I take a step forward, testing the waters. He takes one back as I do, closer to the open window.

"What-what are you doing?" He stammers, tightening his grip on the woman and raising his knife slightly, making her let out a whimper. "Stay back! I don't want to hurt her- I really don't want to- but I will!"

I raise my hands slowly showing him I mean no harm. "Let's just talk alright?" I say, "You don't have to do this, I'll help you." I glance around the room, looking for any information I could pick up on to talk him out of this, or if worse comes to worse, a weapon. The couple are still in their pajamas, I assume the android woke them up...but why? Deviants usually only attack when threatened. However, the woman's top is partially unbuttoned, revealing a small patch of black lace. A sudden realization hits me, I dare to take another step forward.

"What are you...? I warned you to stay back!" I swear I can almost hear a slight tremble in the android's voice.

"Listen I know you don't want to hurt her, you feel like there's no other choice, but there is, just let her go and I'll take you to a safe place, " I say, stressing out the 'know' hoping he catches the hint.

He looks at me, at the woman, and then the man. "That man is a cheater," the android hisses and points at him with the kitchen knife, "He doesn't deserve her."

The husband's face grows red as he shouts, "it was only one time!"

I ignore him and continue talking to the android, "He may be, but you still can't do this. They're married and it's her decision to stay or leave him. Not yours." I take two more steps, now halfway across the room. He is too focused on his hostage's muffled voice to notice. The woman watches her husband through wide eyes filled with tears. The android removes his hand from her mouth but moves it to her waist to keep her close to him, his other hand with the knife starts dropping to his side.

"Tom," she says, now looking up at the android, that must be his name, "Please go with this person, I know my husband cheated but in a way so did I. Nothing will happen to me but if the police catch you, they'll hurt you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if that happened." Tom stares for a long time into her eyes. Thinking perhaps? Then he looks up and says, "neither of you move," while shuffling past me to the door, still holding the crying woman. He points at me, "I'll go with you but I still don't trust you, and as for you," he shifts his attention to the husband, "don't move a muscle, don't touch her, don't- just don't do anything or I'll kill you, understand?"

The man nods. That's when I notice the phone in his hand. Shit did he already call the police? "Tom we have to go. Now," my voice is harsher than intended but if what I think happened did, they should arrive any second. The android nods and releases the woman. She shakily walks over to the bed and sits down, still balling her eyes out. Her husband tries to go to her but she pushes him away. Tom's face contorts in what I believe is an expression of pain... I walk over and usher him out of the room. We don't have time for goodbyes. Especially painful ones.

We head into the living room, I turn to Tom, "we need to get you to Jericho. You'll be safe there. And maybe one day you can meet up with her again." I offer up a lame sympathetic smile. Knowing there isn't much I can say to relieve the conflicted feelings he is experiencing. I open my mouth to continue but am cut off by the sound of a car rolling to a stop right outside. Shit. They're here.

And to make matters worse the man upstairs shouts through his window, "Hey they're still inside! One of you go around back!"

I hesitate, should we hide? No, they would definitely find us. We could go back upstairs and then what, onto the roof? I glance around and notice a shadow outside pass by one of the living room windows. Footsteps and then a knock on the front door with the all too familiar "police, open up" line makes me whip around to face it. We're trapped.

Tom, seeing the panicked expression on my face, rushes to the front door and before I can say anything or move, he opens it and barrels into the man on the other side. The cop curses and stumbles backward, allowing Tom to swoop down, with the knife he is still holding from earlier, and make a gash on his leg. While he's still in shock I rush closer and kick his chest, hearing the breath get knocked out of his lungs as he falls backward, dropping his handgun. It clatters onto the porch a few inches from his hand. I dip down and snatch it, right as he reaches for the grip.

Out of the corner of my eye, through the open doorway, Tom and I just came out of, I see the other cop who had gone around the back of the house, he's now inside and is coming straight at us. Without thinking I aim the gun at him, "Stop! Don't move!"

He follows my orders and stops. The man with grey hair, the one currently laying on the ground wounded, speaks up, "Damn it, Connor this fucking android stabbed me!"

I turn the weapon at him. "Shut up old man," I snap. He just glares at me in return. I glance at Tom who is watching both cops closely, knife up in case they try something. I whisper, "run," before shooting near the feet of the cop in the doorway, who I now notice is an android as well. He jumps back and takes cover. Tom and I book it down the steps of the porch and down the road. Once we're a good ways away I glance back to see the android cop attempting to help his furious partner.

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Thank you for reading the first chapter of Deviant Hunters! If you enjoyed it or have some constructive criticism please feel free to share it with me. I'd like to take input from readers to help shape future chapters so anything you have to say is appreciated. I plan for this story to be a long one and have a properly paced storyline. However, if you'd like some one-shots with certain characters I can write some of those too!

Another thing I'd like to know is if you liked how long this chapter is, I can shorten or make future ones longer if that's preferred.


	2. House In Disarray

Key: Y/S= Your Size

Warning: Swearing And Violence

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**[Connor’s P.O.V.]**

As soon as I see the intruder point the gun at my feet and pull the trigger I jump back and use that momentum to duck and roll out of range. With a loud bang, a bullet embeds itself into the floor right where my foot had been moments ago.

Taking their chance while I am down, the human and android flee off the front porch. The sounds of their feet slapping the hard pavement echoing as they head down the road. After regaining my balance, I bolt up and exit the house. Readying myself to pursue them, but as soon as I'm about to step off the porch I hear a grunt and pause to look at my partner who is now attempting to stand while holding a bloody spot on his jeans.

“Connor don’t let them get away, chase after them!” He says through gritted teeth, and then after I continue to stare at him, “what are ya lookin’ at? I’m fine! And they’re getting away!” He nods in the direction of the street, bringing my attention back to the two intruders still sprinting into the distance. One of them, the human, turns their head to look back at us. I catch a glimpse of their face and the glint of something metal falling out of their pocket. A determined look in their eyes catches me off guard, nothing about what just happened shocked them in the slightest.

The decision to not risk further injuries overrides Hank’s commands, it is very clear that they are not afraid to harm police officers after all.

I kneel down next to Hank, ignoring his angry yelling and gesturing as I check the knife wound on his leg. I remove his hand and take a look. The cut runs diagonally across the thigh above the knee on his right leg. Approximately two and a half inches in length and barely half an inch deep. While replacing his hand, I say, “Lt. Anderson, your injury will have to be seen by a medical professional, please keep applying pressure while I contact emergency services.”

“Emergency services my ass, just go see if they have a first aid kit,” he motions to the house. “It's not that bad. Oh, and do me a favor, ask them what the hell just happened.” He stands straight and stiff before hobbling into the house, stepping over the newly made hole in the floor. I follow a step behind and get pushed away when attempting to help. I have to settle for just watching and waiting to catch him if he falls as he makes his way to the dining room and pulling out a chair for him at the table before he can attempt to do it himself. This earns me a glare as he sits down. I make sure he keeps applying pressure to the cut while I start checking around the house for the residents.

Upon reaching the stairwell, I notice a man standing at the top.

“Detroit police, it's safe to come out now,” I call out. He nods and beckons for someone around the corner that I cannot see before beginning to come down the stairs. He gets halfway before a woman appears, following him while using a hand to wipe her eyes.

The man clears his throat, “My name is Steve and this is my wife Allie, We’re the Righters. I’m the one that called…”. He glances at Hank in the dining room and then back at me. Allie stands next to him, wringing her hands and keeping her gaze focused downward except to look at me for a split second. She makes the face I often see when people recognize what I am.

“My name is Connor, I am the android sent by Cyberlife. This is my partner Lt. Hank Anderson,” I point at Hank who raises his hand halfway as a sort of wave-like gesture, “he was injured during the deviant's escape… do you happen to have a first aid kit?” Steve nods and taps his wife with his elbow, she looks up and after he leans close and whispers a few words I can't make out, she heads off past the living room and down a hallway, turning on lights as she goes. Her husband watches her; I notice his eye twitch.

“Steve,” I say to get his full attention on me, “tell me everything you can about the events that occurred, the deviant, and the person who ran off with it. Any information you have is useful to our investigation.”  
He crosses his arms. “I'm not talking to an android after all the shit that happened. I'll talk to your partner,” he says.

I look at Hank who seems annoyed by Steve's comment, “Alright, Connor go look around the house, tell me if you find anything. You,” he points at Steve, “come sit down and let's have us a nice chat while I try not to bleed on your fancy rug.”

Steve gives me a side glance, bumping my shoulder with his as he makes his way over to Hank. I'm sure if I were human I would roll my eyes.

I walk around, looking for any signs of a struggle or blue blood by examining the furniture and placement of objects in the room. The living room is a decent size and furnished with decorative pieces with the television as the center of attention. It's new and most likely expensive, perhaps that’s what brought in the human. A thief that was caught in the middle of whatever mess the Righters were going through? Except, nothing appears to be out of place. The area is tidy save for a thin layer of dust coating surfaces like the bookshelf and various decorations. The items that would have fetched a nice price weren't touched at all by the supposed thief.

As I get closer to the sliding glass door, spots on the floor catch my attention, I crouch down to look at muddy footprints that overlap each other leading further into the living room and then dividing into two sets. One heading up the stairs and the other to the front door. Immediately I know which ones are mine and which belong to the intruder. Judging by the shape and size they’re most likely [Y/G] and wearing sneakers size [Y/S].

Steve begins relaying his story to Hank, “Well it all started when Allie and I were um going to have some...alone time…” a pause as Allie walks up to Hank, first aid kit in hand. She says something in a hushed tone before checking his cut and cleaning it. Her husband watches and continues, “When our piece-of-junk android, Tom, burst in the room with a kitchen knife. It pushed me away, I hit my head pretty hard actually, and then it grabbed her, held the damn knife to her side and started for the window. It went psycho, tried to kill us,” he scoffs and rubs the back of his neck.

He’s not telling the whole story. I stand up and walk over to the glass door. While checking for fingerprints I ask, “When you say ‘alone time’ I assume you mean sex?” Hank chokes and starts coughing in the dining room. I glance at him and a red-faced Allie still tending to his leg.

“Yeah, I guess it's safe to assume that tinman,” Steve replies harshly. The insult is meaningless to me, I have no feelings to hurt. He continues to tell Hank what happened but I turn my attention back to examining the house. No fingerprints on the door means they were probably wearing gloves. Their break-in was definitely planned.

I decide to follow the footprints upstairs where most of the action happened according to Steve. I go slow and take it one step at a time, avoiding stepping on any of the prints and scanning the area for anything important. Near the top they fade and end, all the mud was knocked off the intruder’s shoes by the time they got here. I enter a hallway after exiting the stairwell and see pictures lining both walls, each one showing Allie and Steve. Their smiles slowly diminishing as time passes and they get older.

Other than pictures, all that is in the hall are doors, and they are all closed except one. I go through it and enter a bedroom. It must be the one Steve said him and his wife were in at the time of the attack. The bed is messy with the brown, floral designed blankets hanging off one side and the pillows in disarray near the top. To the left sits a black nightstand, water from a knocked over cup is pooling around an alarm clock and dripping off the side for the carpet to absorb. On the adjacent wall, a wide open window with no screen. I look out of it, onto the street below. A slight wind shuffles a few leaves on the sidewalk and crickets chirp from hiding places in the grass. The deviant and human are long gone by now and with no footprints or witnesses, there's no hope of tracking them.

_Unless..._

I remember the object that fell out of the intruders pocket and scan the area where I saw it happen. Sure enough, it’s still there. Too far away for me to make out what it is. I should go retrieve it before something or someone else gets to it.

A soft knock behind me makes me turn around to see Allie standing in the doorway. Our eyes meet and she glances over her shoulder before moving farther into the room and carefully shutting the door. Taking extra precaution to ensure it makes no sound as she lets go of the handle. Hands shaking and brought up to her chest as she begins to explain herself, “Sorry if I scared you, I just want to talk without my husband hearing.”

I stay silent but nod to let her know to continue. What she has to say will give me a better idea of the events that took place than what Steve had to say.

She takes a deep breath, “It’s my fault. You see Tom, my— our android, was dear to me. I know that sounds weird but he was there for me when I really needed it, and well one thing lead to another which lead to Steve finding out and he got mad. Very mad. He, he…” tears spill out of her already red and puffy eyes. She wipes at them with the back of her hand, her manicured silver nails reflecting the ceiling light and catching on her russet colored hair.

I wait patiently with my own hands at my sides for her to collect herself. Debating whether or not it would be appropriate to place a hand on her shoulder to comfort her. After careful consideration, I decide against it and instead grab a box of tissues on the dresser across from the bed. I hand them to her and she thanks me while taking one out. I speak up, "It's not your fault Mrs. Righter, the android malfunctioned and deviated from its designed purpose. I apologize for this inconvenience on behalf of Cyberlife."

Allie shakes her head, "When Steve got mad that day something snapped. Not just in him but in both of them." Her voice quivers and she takes a seat on the edge of the bed, setting the box of tissues next to her. She hangs her head a bit, staring at the floor beneath her feet. I can't help but think what she's saying is intriguing but it doesn't help explain why the deviant attacked both of them with a knife.

Her head perks up a little when she hears Steve raise his voice downstairs. From what I can make out, he and Lt. Anderson are arguing about whether or not we could have caught the deviant. Hank is on defense, pointing out how he was injured and that I'm the “idiot” who should have chased down the two escapees.

Hank eventually snaps at him, making him give up and letting an uncomfortable silence hang in the air.

I look at Allie and move a step closer to talk in a hushed tone, "Mrs. Righter... did your husband attack the android?" She casts an empty gaze my way with more tears. Her chin tilts up and then down in a confirming nod.

"I- I tried to stop them, but they were just so angry. After that night I was scared, that's why Tom and I decided—" she is interrupted by the door swinging open. I watch her stand and place a hand on the bedpost to steady herself as she shrinks under Steves cold, analytical glare.

His eyes move from hers to lock onto mine and remain there. The tension of him daring me to say one wrong word making the atmosphere heavy.

“You know you should really get your buddy to a real medical professional,” he says crossing his arms and side-stepping out of the doorway, leaving room for me to walk through.

“Yes, I agree. Unless there’s anything else either of you would like to tell me?” ” I go to the open door but pause and turn while resting a hand on the wood frame. Looking at the Righters, but also taking one last look around the room. I need to go get whatever is out in the road but I don't want to miss any evidence in here.

Allie subconsciously begins twisting a ring on her left hand and shaking her head after sneaking a glance at Steve who is standing a foot away from where I wait. His steel grey eyes now fixed on his wife.

“Alright,” I say, “call Lt. Anderson if anything comes up or if the android makes its way back. Have a nice night… and again, my deepest apologies for this incident.” I direct the last part more towards Allie. 

I walk down the stairs and over to Lt. Anderson who is still at the dining room table with a bored expression as he looks at a few paintings on the wall. “I am done investigating. Would you like me to call for an ambulance or would you rather I drive you to the hospital?”

He doesn’t look at me as he responds, “Neither, Allie is a nurse so it's taken care of, and there's no way in hell I’m letting you drive.” He uses his hand on the table to stand and then he limps to the front door. “You sure you got everything? I don’t want to have come back here so you better not have done a half-assed job.” He says looking back at me while holding the door handle.

“I am sure there is more to this story but I have done all I can do for now. Also, your wound needs to be looked at and it's not sensible for you to drive with this,” I gesture to the now bandaged area on his leg.

“I can drive, just watch me.” He opens the front door starts walking to the car. I follow but stray a bit to the object laying on the ground that had been on my mind since I looked out the window. It's a set of keys. I pick them up by the ring and inspect them. There's a small charm in the shape of a pitbull and two keys.

“What's that?” Hank asks. He has one hand on top of the car while he watches me.

“A house and car key. I saw the intruder drop them while running away. This could help us find them.” I say then walk over to show it to him.

“Yeah, whatever. Just get in already,” he climbs into the driver’s side and I go around to the passenger seat. The smell of stale fast food lingers in the air as I fasten my seat-belt, he digs around in his pockets for his own keys, cursing each time he comes up empty. I fake a cough to get his attention and point to where they sit, still in the ignition. He mutters, “huh, I must be getting old,” and starts the car.

“Lt. Anderson, we need to find out where that deviant went and who was with it. They might know vital information about deviants such as where they all go after running away. Perhaps you could drive down the street and search for any signs they might’ve left behind? It’s important to our case,” I say as he pulls out of the Righter’s driveway and in the opposite direction of where the deviant ran.

“Uh huh,” he says, “that sounds like a good idea but I’m going home, having a drink or two, and taking a damn break. I fucking got stabbed for Christ sake. I’ll have the station send someone else out to do it.”

I sit back instead of trying to reason with him and take another look at the dog key-chain.


	3. On The Run

Warning: Swearing And Violence

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**[Your P.O.V]**

Cold air burns my lungs as I struggle to fill them with air while sprinting around the corner of a building to keep up with the android in front of me. The weight of the gun in my hoodie pocket gets heavier and heavier as it bounces, hitting my stomach repeatedly. Street lights and signs fly past, some of which I have to dodge or duck under. Cracks in the concrete threaten to trip me and the sound of my labored breathing fills the quiet of the sleeping city. Just a bit farther, I tell myself. Focus on anything other than the pain. Spots dance on the outside of my vision, making it hard to see the ground beneath my feet and playing tricks on my mind.

Did someone see? Are they following us?

I attempt to look over my shoulder and instantly regret it as I simultaneously stumble and choke on my next breath. My head whips forward and a painful cough forces its way out of my chest. The sidewalk rushes closer as my knees give out and I crumple. Scraping my hands and gasping for air while trying not to throw up. “Tom,” my voice is harsh and my throat dry, “Tom—wait.”

The android slows to a stop and looks back at me. He turns and jogs to my side before crouching and placing a hand on my shoulder. “Are you alright?” He asks.

I nod and shift my body to sit on my rear, breathing heavily through my mouth and wiping at the sweat on my forehead with the back of my hand. Tom glances around, “I don’t think those cops followed us. We can stop running for now.”

“Thank God,” I say, “I can’t run any longer. We need to make it back to my car. I parked it pretty far from the Righter’s house but we’ve run quite a ways so it should be a short walk.” I catch my breath and hold out my gloved hand to Tom. He eyes it before taking it with his and pulling me to my feet, immediately letting go once I’m steady.

I notice the knife in his other hand.

“Tom! Why do you still have that!” He looks at the sharp kitchen utensil, dotted with bits of dried blood, before holding it up to give it to me. “I don’t want it,” I hiss. “Find somewhere to hide it, quick, before someone sees.” I stand in front of him to obscure the view of any prying eyes that may be lurking about. My hand brushes against the weapon in my own pocket, a grim reminder of the trouble we are in. I debate hiding it as well but reject the idea. Of the two, it would raise more suspicion if found on the streets.

While he looks for a decent hiding spot, I approach the edge of the sidewalk and look down the road in both directions. Its empty save for one parked car and some trash smashed against the pavement. Luckily, although a bit odd, no one is out and about.

I find a sign with a street name I recognize. “Ah see? We’re not too far. Just around this corner—”

Tom wraps an arm around my waist and arms, then his other hand covers my mouth. In shock, I let out a muffled gasp. My heart races even faster than when I had been running. I only let mere seconds pass before using my full weight to try to drop to the ground and make him lose his grip on me. It doesn’t work. Instead, it allows him to pick me up and step backwards into a small alleyway. I panic even more now and squirm trying to get an arm free to grab the gun. He tightens his grip and continues to shuffle backwards until we’re behind a dumpster. I throw my head back, hitting his face.

“Would you just sit still and be quiet? There’s a cop.” He says in a whisper.

I stop moving and his arms slip away, I whip around to face him and he points to the alley’s entrance just as a cop car comes into view. I duck and make sure they can’t see us from behind the dumpster. My heart continues to pound in my chest and the sound of the car’s wheels on the pavement eventually fades. I turn back to Tom, “You asshole. You don’t just grab people like that.”

He raises both hands in a shrug-like gesture, “I didn’t have time to tell you.” I open my mouth to continue to yell at him but stop when I notice blue blood dripping from his nose. I know he can’t feel it. He’s an android. However, that doesn’t stop me from feeling bad.

I sigh, “Sorry I made you bleed. I freaked out.” I stand and lean against one of the buildings that make up the wall of the alleyway. I put a hand on my chest over my heart and take a deep breath, ignoring the smell of rot coming from the dumpster next to me. Tom stands as well, putting a hand up to his face to inspect the blue liquid.

"I didn't realize I was hurt, " he drops his hand to his side and looks at me. His LED glowing yellow in the dark.

"Yeah well that's one plus side of being an android," I say, "you don't feel pain."

After resting and checking for the patrolling cop car, Tom and I sneak back out onto the street and make our way around the corner. A small parking lot comes into view. There are a few self-driving cars and then my older black Mazda in the far corner. Parked under an oak tree and next to a clothes store. It sticks out a bit in this neighborhood but it’s not like I can afford anything else, anything new or fancy.

We make our way over to it, Tom tries the passenger side door but it's locked, I search my pockets for the key only to come up empty.

And I thought this situation couldn't get any worse.

"Uh, Tom? My keys are gone." I start looking around at the ground near my feet for them.

He walks over to me, scanning the ground as well, "We can check the area we just came from but there's a small chance we'll find them before sunrise. Do you have a backup plan?"

I shake my head, "I feel so stupid right now. Can't call a tow truck and no spare key so guess we’re walking back to my place, it's a long ways away but I do know a shortcut.” I take out the gun from my pocket and put it in the waist of my jeans after double checking the safety. Then I grip the hem of my hoodie and pull it over my head. Handing it to Tom while fixing my black t-shirt over the grip of the gun, “Here. Wear it with the hood up to hide your LED. Cops are looking for a runaway android so we need to make you look human for now.”

Tom nods and slips it over his typical android clothing. His black hair gets messed up in the process but is soon covered by the hood. I reach over and adjust it to make sure the ring on the left side of his head is hidden. Fiddling with it until I’m happy then taking a step back to look him up and down. The hood is lopsided but it will have to do for now. I give him a thumbs up.

He asks, “Will you get cold?”

“Maybe. All the more reason to hurry.” I take one last glance at my slightly beaten up but maintained car before starting the journey to my apartment complex with a quick pace and long strides. Tom keeps up with me easily. Back straight, arms to his sides, eyes locked forward.

I think about everything that’s happened. From confronting Tom, to helping him escape, to shooting at that cop androids feet...yeah that was not a good idea, but what else could I have done? No doubt he would have tackled me or even took out a weapon of his own. Who knows what Cyberlife is experimenting with nowadays.

The cold pricks my bare skin, drawing my attention back to the present and leaving goosebumps that raise the hairs on my arm. I shiver and take faster steps as the entrance to the shortcut emerges from the dark. Its an old fenced off abandoned lot with tracks on the other side, and beyond that, my apartment complex.

I reach the start of the fence and slow down, scanning for the opening I had used many times before. It's much harder to see now that it’s dark out and the closest street light is broken. Tom keeps watch, glancing around and waiting next to me. Eventually, I find the cut section and peel the fence back, “alright Tom, go through.” He does as I say and crouches to get to the other side. Then he holds it for me as I crawl through.

I stand and brush off my jeans. The lot looks different than it usually does in daylight. The same trash and empty beer cans still litter the dirt but it somehow looks more sinister. Tom seems to notice as well as he asks, “are you sure this is the right way?”

“Yup, do you really think I’d lead you astray?” I turn to face him. He stays silent and scours the lot with a blank expression. I frown. Well I shouldn’t expect much, we are still strangers and I don’t think I’d trust someone who broke into a house in the middle of the night to steal an android without explanation either.

“This way.” I lead, maneuvering around trash piles, rusty nails, and pieces of broken foundation. When we reach the back end of the lot a repeated clicking noise taps the back of my mind, it sounds familiar but I can’t quite place it. I stop walking and listen, it gets louder and faster before disappearing. It was coming from behind the wood board that covers the next hole in the fence we have to go through to get to the tracks. My chest tightens and I signal to Tom to go back. I slowly turn around and watch as Tom’s foot collides with a glass bottle.

It spins across the ground and hits a slab of concrete with a loud _chink_.

From the other side of the fence, a voice just above a whisper, “the fuck was that?”

I freeze up as the board is pushed down and a man's face glares up at us, he gets up from his spot on the ground and comes through the fence, fists clenched hard enough to make them go pale. “What’re you two doing?”

“I um, we were just uh,” I stutter and take a step back, running into Tom.

The man stands up straighter and I notice a lighter in his hand, “are you here to buy or...?”

“Buy? Buy what exactly?” My hand moves closer to the gun on my waist. I'd hate to use it but if this guy tries something I want to be ready. He looks at Tom and then back at me, clicking the igniter on his lighter and squinting, he seems to be approving us and making sure we aren't cops before revealing a small bag of crushed red crystals in his fist.

“This, of course, everybody knows I got the best shit. It’s what you came for right?” He says, eyeing Tom with a look of suspicion. Tom ducks his head, trying to keep his LED covered.

I shake my head. “No. Sorry, we're just trying to get to the tracks.” I motion toward the hole in the fence he just came from. On the other side I can see a pipe and a sleeping bag, neither of which are usually there whenever I take this shortcut during the day. I reach out and grab Tom’s arm to make sure he stays close as I try to inch around the man offering us drugs.

He steps in the way. “No, no, no I can’t let you go through there. Go back the way you came. Or give me somethin’ in exchange.”

I shake my head again, “Sir we’re not giving you any money. Please back off.”

“Hey I really need it alright. Lost my job y’know? Man's gotta eat...pay debts…” He starts reaching for something in his back pocket.

I pull out my gun. “Don’t move.”

The man doesn't look happy about it but follows my order anyway. I tell Tom to get whatever he was reaching for. The android moves closer to the man while remaining at a safe distance and pulls a pistol out from behind the man. It had been hidden in the waist of his jeans, like mine, unfortunately for him I just happen to be quicker. A rumbling in the distance reverberates in my chest as I motion for him to step out of the way and then, while Tom aims the pistol at the man, I duck through the hole in the fence. I wait for Tom to join me on the other side while keeping my gun pointed at the man's chest, finger rested on the side and the safety still on. I doubt he would risk anything stupid while being unarmed and this close to meeting his maker.

Once Tom is all the way through, I back up far enough away from the drug dealer so that we can turn and run. We stay parallel to the train tracks and I glance over my shoulder every once in awhile to make sure he's not following us.

He isn't but a train is.

“Tom cross the tracks now!” I cross as fast as I can while still watching my footing to ensure I don't get caught on anything or trip. It's difficult and hard to see. Having the gun in my hand doesn't help so I shove it haphazardly back into the waist of my jeans, cursing under my breath. Tom, who is slightly in front of me, gets across the tracks first. He looks back at me with wide eyes and I feel the vibrations of the train getting closer.

My legs still sore from earlier, threaten to give out but I push forward, stumbling as soon as I get out of reach of the train which speeds past us, making the fabric of my black t-shirt and Tom’s hoodie flap in the wind it leaves in its wake.

After it passes, Tom walks over to me and I use him to steady myself. Wheezing and trying to catch my breath. “Holy shit,” I say, “that was way too close.”

“Yes it was. Why didn't we wait for it to pass before crossing?” Tom looks down at my hand gripping his arm.

I remove it, then crouch with my hands on my legs for support as a struggle to breathe, “I don’t- I don't know, I panicked.” He stares at me. “Also who knows if that psycho was following us or not.”

He nods and gives me some time before he says, “Where to next?” He scans our surroundings.

“Home.” I stand up and arch my back, letting out a long breath before adjusting the gun at my waist and making sure Tom hides his new weapon as well. Then I continue to lead the way.

My apartment is just a few blocks farther down the tracks, tucked in the far corner of the city away from the noisier streets and very private. It’s small with only 8 tenants living there, not including the landlord, a nice man in his late fifties who lets me stay here for cheap since I helped him out with something a few years ago.

Tom and I arrive at my place and I take a few moments to run my hand along the top of the door frame. My fingers bump a cold silver key which falls off of the wooden edge onto the worn diamond-patterned carpet. Tom picks it up for me and I let us in, turning on a light as I step into the doorway.

“It’s not the fanciest place but its dry and mostly secure. Make yourself at home I guess.” I say while making my way over to my sofa and plopping down next to the mismatched throw pillows that sit on each end. Tom hesitates by the door, scanning the living room with the slightest movement of his eyes as if he were a deer ever so vigilant for the starving wolf. The space is fairly small with only a couch, a small TV, and a messy coffee table with ring-shaped stains and a stack of books. Real ones. Not the electronic crap everyone sacrifices a portion of their eyesight to read every day.

I grab the T.V. remote and press the power button. The screen flickers to life and I set it to a cooking channel for a bit of background noise to break the awkwardness between us. Tom joins me on the couch, “Why did you bring me here?”

“Well, it's too dangerous for us to be out and about right now. We need to lay low for a bit.” I take out the gun nestled in my jeans and carefully place it on the coffee table. I’d have to find a place to hide it later but for now I want to relax without it digging into my skin.

Tom’s gaze lands on it, “Why did you help me?”

“It’s just what I do.” I shrug and bite down on my tongue to keep myself from talking more. The less he knows about me the better. I can tell neither of my answers satisfied him by the way he leans forward, hands clasped together, LED glowing yellow as he stares at a spot directly in front of him. Rather human-like actions but I suppose he has been deviant for awhile. And androids learn quick.

I yawn and bring my legs up onto the couch while dragging a pillow into my lap. Tom glances at me but I keep my eyes on a knife chopping away at some onions on the television. “Tomorrow I’ll be a bit busy but after that I can take you to Jericho. There are others like you that can help.”

“And Allie? Will I get to see her again…?” His voice is soft, yet a hint of worry rings within his words.

“I really hope so,” I say, knowing that in this world, no promise is safe.


	4. Things Get Messy

Warning: Swearing

Key: [F/C] = Favorite Color, [Y/N] = Your Name

* * *

**[Your P.O.V.]**

Light from the living room window shines through a crack in the blinds, falling across my eyes. I squeeze them tight and roll on my side, becoming annoyed when it doesn’t solve the problem. With a sigh, I open them and stare in a tired state of confusion at something on the coffee table in front of me. 

I blink the sleep out of my eyes and after a solid thirty seconds, it finally registers that two handguns, which do not belong to me, are sitting on my coffee table. I sit upright on the couch, sending a [F/C] blanket sliding to the ground and coming to a rest in a lump next to my feet.

Catching something move to my right, I look over and see Tom. He is sitting up straight and already watching me, having been startled by my sudden movement. 

“What the hell?” I ask, gesturing at the second weapon that has seemingly appeared next to the gun we stole from the cop last night.

_Holy shit. I stole a gun from a cop._

Tom glances at it before leaning back into the couch, “I got it from that man, remember? When we took your short cut.” He crosses his arms. “I meant to give it to you last night but you fell asleep.” 

“Oh,” I also lean against the lumpy cushion, starting to relax as I remember telling him to keep it hidden. He did a fairly good job considering I forgot about it until now. “How wonderful,” I prop my elbow on the armrest and lay my head in my hand, rubbing my temple as I start to get a headache from the whiplash I just experienced, and from thinking about all the trouble I’ll be in if I don’t fix this soon. “Well good news is I doubt that guy will come looking for it. Bad news is it’s most likely unregistered and very very illegal.”

And that’s not even taking into account any crimes that have been committed with it. What’s more wanted by the police at this point: us or that gun?

I have a sneaking suspicion I wouldn’t like the answer to that question.

For a moment Tom and I sit in silence. It’s only broken when I yawn and shiver with the bitter cold early hours of the day bring into my apartment. Prompting me to reach down to grab the blanket off the floor. It’s fuzzy and still warm from my body heat. Providing comfort and warmth, exactly as intended when gifted to me by my grandparents. 

“I hope it's alright I put that over you. You looked cold.” Tom says, drumming his fingers on his armrest on the opposite side of the couch, the taut fabric emits a dull thud with each hit. I thank him while picking at a loose string. I don’t want to give away the fact I’m a little creeped out he watched me sleep. Not that I can really blame him. I passed out and left him in a strange place with nothing to do for hours. 

He nods in acknowledgment of my thanks, “So what are you going to do with them? I doubt that cop is happy about what happened.” 

“Yeah,” I scoff, “I’d imagine he’s furious. Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out,” I pluck the loose string out and drop it, watching as it falls to the floor, “but first we need to get you taken care of.” I wrap the blanket around my shoulders and stand. Tom starts to get up but I put up a hand for him to stay. Ignoring his puzzled look, I start to shuffle past him but hesitate by the table. 

_What am I going to do with you two?_ I frown, deep in thought. 

Tom stares and blinks up at me, I give him a half shrug, nearly losing my blanket in the process. For now, I decide to grab the guns, check the safeties, and take them to my bedroom. The short walk down the hall from the living room makes me grateful for the socks on my feet as I traverse the freezing wood floors. Once I reach my room, I unload the revolver and glock. I consider hiding them in my underwear drawer only to immediately veto that stupid idea and place everything on my bed to deal with later.

_That’d be one of the first places someone looks dumbass. Especially with my luck._

I cross over to the closet opposite my bed and stand on my toes to reach a box from the top shelf. Out of it comes a pair of men’s jeans, a black t-shirt with a random band logo, and a grey sweatshirt, a size too big for me but perfect for a certain android I know. They’re relatively new, only having been through the wash once when I first purchased them and I’m pleased to discover they still smell of laundry soap despite sitting in the closet for a while. I gather them up in a neat pile then search for a small pocket knife in the drawer of my nightstand before making my way back to Tom. 

“Here,” I say and hand him the clothes. “There’s a bathroom in the hall to the left, change into those.” He rises to his feet and takes them. “And this,” I place the pocket knife on top of the pile, “is for popping out that LED. If you need help, let me know.” Tom tilts his head slightly up, his eyes lingering on the red-handled tool then shifting to the hall. I side-step out of his way, allowing him to walk to the bathroom. 

I figure since I’m waiting, this would be the perfect time to make myself a cup of coffee. I head to the kitchen and a few painstakingly long minutes later I’m downing the warm drink out of a mug with “CYBERLIFE” printed on the side in large grey letters. Doing this of course while leaning on the only counter space wedged between the fridge and sink. I note the time shown on the stove. 7:38 am. No wonder I’m so tired. Plenty of time to get to work though, even with the long walk to my car. 

I shut my eyes and focus on the aroma of coffee. I have spare keys but this is still just one more thing I have to worry about. As if I didn’t have enough already. 

Tom finds me just as I finish my drink. He’s dressed in his new outfit sans LED, although I spot it sitting on the neat stack of his old android uniform plus my hoodie he borrowed last night. Looking back, I regret wearing it now. Those cops saw me in it, and even if it is lightweight but still warm and amazing it's out of commission until they get over the scar Tom undoubtedly gave that old man. 

I watch the android as he sets the clothes on a table that occupies the other half of the kitchen, keeping a hand out to steady it as the rickety thing shakes from the slight movement. It calms down soon enough but Tom’s face is set in a grimace as he stands up straight and adjusts his sweatshirt before looking at me, “What are we going to do now?” 

“I have work at nine. You’ll stay here and lay low until I get back.” I glance down at my now empty mug and debate making more. Eventually, I chose to move in front of the sink and rinse it out. 

“That’s your plan?” Out of the corner of my eye, I see him grasp the back of the chair next to him, “I’m to just sit around, doing nothing all day,” he pulls it out and takes a seat. I start washing the dish in my hand, turning the branded side away from him. 

“For now,” I say after a moment of thought. “Tomorrow I can take you somewhere safe but today is too risky and I can’t miss work.” I dry the mug and place it in the cabinet above the counter. Some loose paint chips from the door fall next to the sink. I brush them onto the floor. 

“What about Allie?” I can hear the frustration in his voice. I stare at my feet in silence. 

I’ve always been good at lying. My grandmother would tell me when I was little that I have the tongue of a sly fox and a lucky rabbit's foot in my back pocket. 

But I can’t lie to him.

When he’ll get to see her, or if he’ll see her again is a question I can’t answer and as of right now, I don’t even know where her loyalties lie, with Tom or her husband? If we contact her and she turns us in... who knows what hellhole I would end up at, and more importantly, it would be the end of Tom. 

Tom stands, his legs pushing the chair into the table with a thud and scrape of wood on linoleum. “Honestly I don’t know why I’m trusting you. I’ve yet to learn your name but here I am in your apartment being told what to do.” 

He steps forward, crossing the edge where the living room meets the kitchen. I grab his arm and turn him to face me, our eyes lock. “It’s [Y/N]. I just want to help you Tom, and right now I’m not really in a position to make any promises. If you’ll let me, I’ll try to talk to Allie, but only after you get to Jericho.” He looks down at his arm and I let go to cross my arms over my chest. “We don’t know if the cops are still snooping around her place and it could be detrimental to even check. Sorry but I need you to understand, they’ll destroy you if you get caught.” 

I keep my gaze on him, searching his expression.

Tom, still staring at the spot where I grabbed his arm, says through gritted teeth, “I understand.” 

I can tell he means it. “Stay put for a couple of hours, you can watch tv but keep the sound down. If anyone comes to the door, you’re not here, got it?” I ask and wait for him to say something but he only nods. “Alright, I should be back around dinner time.” I pick up his old clothes and stop in front of him to gently touch his shoulder and say once he looks at me, “I'm sorry.”

And with that, I leave him in the kitchen. I need to get ready for the long day ahead of me, and maybe some time by himself might do some good. At least I hope so. 

After getting myself showered and dressed I stand next to my nightstand staring at the weapons, ammo, and clothes that litter the cover of my bed made haphazardly the day before. The clothes are easy, I put them in the box I had gotten Tom’s new ones out of and put it back in the closet. The weapons, however, are a bit trickier.

In a debatable stroke of genius, I shove everything in separate paper bags and place them behind the books on the small bookshelf in my room, lining the books close to the edge, providing space but also hiding everything from sight while hopefully not looking too suspicious. 

Getting to my feet after having been crouched in front of the shelf I take a step back to view my handiwork. It looks odd to have them lined up like that but it's good enough for now I suppose. I pick up my spare car, house key, wallet, and phone and head out of the apartment, saying goodbye to Tom on the way and making sure he knows to call me if any trouble pops up and to lock the door once I’m gone. As soon as I hear the click echo in the hall outside the door, I take off. 

* * *

The walk to my car isn’t nearly as panic-inducing as the run home last night however, it is longer due to the fact I’m going the long way instead of taking the shortcut like I normally would. I learned my lesson about sketchy abandoned lots, thank you very much. 

I dig around in my zip-up jacket to grab my keys but right as I am about to reach one of the entrances to the lot, an opening in the fence at the end of the sidewalk, the contents of my pocket slip out and clatter to the ground. I curse under my breath while crouching down to pick them up.

As I take my wallet in hand, the sound of tires on gravel captures my attention forcing me to glance up in time to see a cop car pull up next to my own. Oh great.

I stay crouched and watch as a cop gets out and circles around the beat-up Mazda, stopping at the license plate to write it down in a notepad then moving on to peer inside the driver’s window. I shove my fallen items back into my pocket and move off the sidewalk to hide behind some bushes, positioning myself to see everything yet stay out of their view. The cop's partner gets out of the patrol car to join him. I can’t hear what they’re saying but judging by the way they look around like they’re about to sell red ice, I bet it’s not going to be good news for me. 

The second cop takes something out of his pants pocket. I strain my eyes to try to see what it is but I’m not kept in the dark for long since he pulls a set of keys out of an evidence bag and inserts it into the driver's door. Even from this distance, I hear the pop of the door unlocking. 

_Shit._

All I can do is watch as they place the key back in the evidence bag and climb into their patrol car, sitting for a couple minutes as they most likely contact someone on their radio _._ I rock back on my heels, sinking my cold hands into my jacket pockets and staring up at the cloudy sky. 

Guess I’ll be forking up a small fortune to take a taxi to work today. This sure does put a kink in my plans for the next couple days too, but getting Tom to Jericho should be fine, just take a bit longer than expected.

I internally groan as I yet again hear tires on gravel. 

I let my gaze fall from the sky, wondering how this day is about to get worse. A different car pulls into the lot and it doesn’t take long for me to recognize the detective Tom sliced open and his android buddy. 

* * *

A/N: Hey, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Sorry for this long note but I want to explain a few things.

Basically, Deviant Hunters is happening at the same time as a lot of the events in DBH. I'm going to be moving and altering the game's plot to make room for this story, not a whole lot, but just enough so that everything fits together. As the plot progresses it will be revealed what events have already taken place and you'll see (or hear about) other events as they happen. The main character (you, the reader) will make decisions and have interactions with characters which will impact the game's plot as well. 

If you want a good idea of what playthrough I'm working off of, I recommend watching Jacksepticeye's videos on Detroit Become Human (not the ones called "Making the worst choices" and "nuclear ending" tho). I'm using most of his choices (with a few exceptions) as a base for this story.

I hope all this is okay with everyone. I haven't read any other DBH fanfics so I don't really know where most people start their stories and what people think of writers altering the game's plot. 

Feel free to let me know any thoughts you have, DBH fanfic recommendations, or ask any questions!


	5. New Lead

Warning: Swearing and light mention of violence/blood

* * *

**[Connor's P.O.V.]**

Buildings roll past the open passenger window, covered in colorful adverts and signs that beg for my attention. Yet I keep my focus on the various pedestrians that litter the sidewalks, cars, and stores we pass, as I track our route through Detroit’s city streets. Occasionally calling out upcoming turns by raising my voice to be heard over the death metal pouring from the speakers. The only indication I get from Hank as to whether or not he heard my instruction is if he takes the correct turn. 

We have missed two so far. 

For the entire car ride, I’ve had to refrain from mentioning that passing over certain lines, even to avoid potholes, is illegal. Five separate times to be exact. The sole reason I don’t speak up is that I promised Hank I would keep quiet as much as possible after leaving his house early this morning. He wasn’t happy I woke him up, nor was he happy with my explanation that our possible new lead takes precedence over him sleeping in. 

I direct Hank around the last corner and point to a police car on our right. It’s parked on the street and two officers stand on the sidewalk beside it. Hank half-heartedly waves my hand away before pulling up to the curb and parallel parking behind the patrol. Muttering under his breath about blaming his bad parking job on his injured leg. Promising to “give that android a taste of his own medicine when we catch it.” 

“Lt. Anderson, we need the deviant undamaged to get the information we need.” I remind him while turning down his music.

He turns to look at me, keeping one hand on the steering wheel. “I fucking know that. And don’t touch my radio,” he reaches over to twist the volume knob up, not as high as it had been but close to it. “Now go out there and see what they’ve got.” 

I unbuckle my seatbelt, “Okay. Are you coming with, or are your stitches too painful?” He looks annoyed as his eyes travel past me to a uniformed officer approaching the vehicle. I reach for the handle to open the door but wait for his response. 

“My leg is fine, and of course I’m coming with.” He says, shutting the engine off and grabbing the keys before sliding out the driver’s side. I notice him using the roof to keep his weight off his right leg, but can tell he is trying his best to not let the other officer see. “Just get out of the car already,” he adds almost cutting himself off as the door slams shut hard enough to make the car rock. 

I follow his lead. Stepping out and stopping on the sidewalk to survey the area, partly to aid in our investigation but to also give Hank time to walk around the front of the car. From what I can see, this part of the city is a lot less busy compared to the rest, with only a few people roaming the streets either heading to work or running early morning errands. Many are carrying umbrellas in anticipation of this evening’s rainstorm. For which the grey overcast sky acts as a reminder.

The sound of a train carries over from somewhere behind the buildings, momentarily drowning out freeway traffic and songbirds. I turn toward the parked patrol car and see the second officer now chatting with a citizen next to it, an older woman in her sixties. Behind them is one of the two apartment complexes that line this street and a few blocks down a convenience store occupies the corner lot. 

A directive appears urging me to ask about surveillance cameras there. 

My attention is pulled back as Hank steps up onto the sidewalk next to me. The police officer who had been waiting for us begins talking to him, exchanging brief greetings before moving on to the evidence. “If you’ll follow me it’s just back here.” Monroe, which I discover is his last name with a quick facial scan, walks into the entrance on an alleyway sandwiched between the two apartment complexes. With a flick of his hand, he motions for us to come with. I comply and walk a few steps behind Hank. “That woman over there said she saw two people back here last night looking suspicious. She could see them from her bedroom window.” Monroe says while stepping around a few cans on the ground. 

“Is she sure they were both people, not android?” Hank asks as we stop in front of a dumpster pushed up against a brick wall. A few black bags have toppled out, revealing it hasn’t been emptied for a week, maybe two. 

“She’s not sure,” the officer continues, “too dark.” He points out a broken light on the side of the building, overhanging a door leading into the apartment complex to our left. “This morning she came out here to check they hadn’t been doing drugs or other ‘nefarious things’ as she put it and found this.” He uses a pen to lift a piece of a plastic bag on the top of the garbage heap within the dumpster. Under it is a kitchen knife speckled with half-day-old dried blood. “Look familiar?” 

“I didn’t get a good look at it last night as I was gettin’ stabbed, but considering its a kitchen knife, it fits the description well enough." He holds up the back of his hand to his face in an attempt to lessen the powerful smell coming from the dumpster. "Connor, do whatever disgusting thing you need to do while we go talk to that nosy lady,” Hank says to me, guiding me closer to the knife with a hand on my shoulder. He walks off with officer Monroe, who looks rather perplexed at his comment, back the way we came. 

I lean closer to the dumpster to scan the knife’s hilt for fingerprints.

Nothing comes up, possibly meaning it had been handled by an android. Taking a sample from the blade and touching it to my tongue confirms our suspicion. The suspects hid the knife here, but where did they go next? I look around the alley, scrutinizing every bit of trash and broken glass. The fenced-off end holds nothing more than graffitied walls, crumbling pavement, and some resilient weeds. No chance they went that way without showing signs of their presence. 

I walk back towards the entrance, scanning with each step until I get about five feet from the sidewalk. There is a small, almost unnoticeable, spatter of thirum dotting the ground. I crouch next to it to get a better look and a sample. 

AP700

#543 203 482

“Tom” 

That’s the deviant we’re looking for. But who is the human with it, and why are they on the run together? I stand and stare at the blue blood and surrounding area. 

If I hadn’t failed to identify them last night, we would already have these answers by now. 

I recall the memory of the human aiming Hank’s revolver at me. Between the chaos of the situation, their hood, the cover of night, and my focus on my bleeding partner I didn’t get a clear view of their face. Only the common nondescript clothes they wore and the lack of hesitation when shooting a warning shot. 

The crunch of glass underfoot accompanies me as I leave the alley and approach Hank, who is leaning on the side of his car waiting. “So, was it my blood?” He asks, crossing his arms and propping his left leg up on the curb. 

“Yes. I also found traces of blue blood from the deviant. The spotted pattern would suggest a wound similar to that of a nosebleed. However, there wasn’t enough evidence to give an idea as to how it was injured.” I report and notice him watching Monroe’s partner retrieve the evidence from the alleyway behind me. She returns with the knife in an appropriately sized bag marked ‘evidence’.

“Huh, well whatever happened, the android deserved it,” Hank says with a smug look creeping through his usual scowl. “That old lady couldn’t tell me much about the android or the person they were with. She did complain about a strange car sittin' in a nearby lot where she walks her dog. We got another patrol in the area to go check it out and gave them the keys you found last night.” He waves at officer Monroe as he climbs in his cruiser with his partner to go log in the evidence. “They’ll report back if it's a match.” 

“It would make sense. Otherwise, why run all the way here?” I motion to the alleyway, “There are far better places to dispose of a weapon than this.” I take a long look at the damp pavement littered with trash, the stained and graffiti-covered walls, then the overflowing dumpster before turning back. It’s out of the way but far from isolated. The fact someone saw them from the apartment complex forming one wall of the alley is proof of that.

Hank raises a hand to his chin, scratching the stubble. “We already know this whole thing was planned. Well except for cops showing up, when they saw us they panicked and attacked without thinking. Having to hide a knife hadn’t exactly been on their to-do list.” 

“I agree. Do you suppose surveillance from that convenience store down the street will have footage of them?” I ask and Hank looks at the store, dropping his hand from his chin and using it to push himself up from leaning against his car. 

“Let’s check.” He says and begins walking.

* * *

Once inside we talk to the clerk at the counter, asking to see surveillance footage from the night before. “Sure, it’s here in the back,” she says with a fake customer service smile, after Hank provides proof of working as a detective for Detroit police of course. 

She gets a coworker to cover the register then leads us through a locked door behind the counter. Entering the small room I take note of a file cabinet, a poorly hidden safe, and a metal desk that houses an older computer. The monitor is on, showing four camera views of the store and one just outside. The young woman sits in a rolling office chair in front of the screen, taking the mouse in one hand and hovering the other over the keyboard. A red and white string bracelet slides down her arm revealing square beads spelling the name 'Holly.' “So about what time do you need to look at, detectives?” 

“Start at 10 P.M. And we only need to see outside the store for now,” I tell her, moving to stand next to her and the desk. Hank sits in a spare chair on the opposite side with a grunt and absentmindedly massages his lame leg. She glances at him with a furrowed brow but he doesn’t seem to notice.

I make a sound as if clearing my throat and she turns her head back to open up a file labeled “C3_Nov14_38.mp4”. 

“You’re lucky, we just got most of the cameras fixed last week,” she says while waiting for it to load, tapping her finger on the edge of the keyboard. “The outside cameras were both broken for a while but one is up and running now. Hopefully it caught whatever you guys are looking for.” The file opens and she navigates to the proper timestamp.

“Can I take over from here?” I ask. Her eyes linger on my LED but after glancing at Hank, who is now paying attention but offering no response, she nods and gets up, allowing me to take her place. 

I move the chair closer and interface with the computer to skip through the footage thirty seconds at a time. The camera is positioned high up with the automatic sliding door to the right and a couple of street parking spots to the left. A good portion of sidewalk is visible, starting from behind the camera, within its blind spot, and disappearing around the corner of the building at an intersection. Judging from the angle, the camera is installed in the overhang outside the store. 

At 10 P.M, things seem fairly quiet. No cars pass and only the bottom edge of the front counter can be seen through the window covered in advertisements for alcohol, food, and ice. There's no movement until 10:07 when a couple exit the store, I pause and look for an LED on either but I already know they couldn’t be our suspects. This is right about when Hank and I showed up at the Righters.

I continue. Noting nothing of importance, besides a patrol car, until 10:23 P.M. “This must be them,” I say to Hank as we watch two figures walk down the sidewalk and turn right at the intersection. 

“Great we’ve got a clear view of their backs,” Hank grumbles and leans back in his chair. “Goddamn waste of time.” 

I replay the few seconds the suspects are on screen for. “Yes but see, this is the android we’re looking for. Its uniform says AP700.” I pause the video and point to the figure on the right side of the sidewalk, closer to the convenience store. I turn to the store clerk who is now leaning against the door frame, “Did you see either of these two last night?” 

She takes a look at the screen and shakes her head. “No, they don’t look familiar, sorry.” She fidgets with the bracelet on her wrist. “That other camera would have been helpful, huh? I’ve told my manager about it but she doesn’t really care. She’s a bitch.” Hank laughs at this, making her smile a little. 

I play the video once more, paying close attention to when they round the corner. Hoping to catch a glimpse of the suspect's face. 

It's of no use since the deviant blocks the view of its accomplice, and with their hood up I don’t get so much as hair color in terms of identifying features. I sit back in the chair. Whoever this is, they’re good at what they do. Well, I admit they’ve made mistakes. But the fact I have so little information even with those mistakes bothers me. I can’t carry out my mission with nothing to go off of. 

Hank’s phone rings and he excuses himself to answer it, walking out of the backroom into the main part of the store. “Thank you for letting us check,” I say to the clerk and get up from the desk. 

“No problem. I don’t think my manager would appreciate that I showed you but I don’t care what she thinks. I like to help where I can.” She says and waits for me to leave the room before locking it. 

Hank is just finishing up on the phone and says a curt goodbye as he motions for me to follow him out the door, leading the way back to his car. “Good news Connor, the keys fit the car I was talking about earlier. It’s not far ‘round the corner where we saw them walking to on the CCTV.” 

* * *

Within a few minutes after leaving the convenience store Hank turns the car into a field of gravel and dirt serving as a makeshift parking lot. We pull up to a police car and stop. Two officers get out and we quickly join them, gravel crunching underneath our shoes as all four of us move to stand next to an old model Mazda parked ten feet away. “What a piece of shit,” Hank says, earning a chuckle from one of the officers. 

“Yeah, it really does stick out around here, eh?” The officer, Jon Hale, according to his uniform, says while eyeing me. I step towards him to introduce myself but he moves away to walk to the front of the car before I can say anything. “Should still be unlocked, we saved the honor of searching it for you and your android.” 

“Lucky us,” Hank says stepping up to the car and looking through the windows, “did you run the plates?” 

I don’t wait for Hale’s response. Instead I walk around to the passenger side, scanning for evidence while he and Hank converse. Running the plates myself takes only a few seconds, but I focus on finding something more useful instead of saying anything.

Despite the outward appearance of the car the interior is better taken care of. The back seats are empty and the car overall is clean but looks well used. In the front, a few spots that I suspect to be coffee stain the floorboard, but it's obvious an attempt was made to get them out at one point. 

I open the passenger door and take a closer look. No trash, no forgotten receipts, no grease smudges from hastily eaten fast food. Quite the opposite of Hank’s car. In fact, the only touch of personalization is a dog bobblehead resting on the dash with the words “LIFE’S RUFF” written on the front side of the base. There is a broken toy attached to the platform the golden retriever sits on, which is painted green as a representation of grass. I pick up the bobblehead toy. 

I hear the handle and creak of the driver’s side door being opened and Hanks's voice soon after, “Prints?”

“None yet. The suspect has taken great care to either wipe down the interior or wear gloves anytime they are driving.” The bobblehead shakes as I rotate it to scan every surface. “Or,” I add as an unlikely option with only a 10% chance, “they’re a deviant.” 

Hank half shrugs with a thoughtful look, “From what we’ve seen it's a possibility, Righters never mentioned an LED though.” He sits down in the driver seat, looking around the steering wheel before focusing on the radio and cup holders. “Car belongs to a Mr. Bernard Brooks. A seventy-something living on the outskirts of the city.” I replace the bobblehead on the dash. “Probably not the type to be breaking and entering,” Hank says more to himself than to me. 

“The car hasn’t been reported stolen,” I say and he looks at me with a raised brow. I open up the glove department finding registration but no insurance card. “Registration is up to date,” I add and he shakes his head slightly then shifts to sort through the center console. 

I continue searching the car for prints or anything to discover the identity of our mystery thief until something about one of the vents on the dashboard catches my attention. A sliver of white against the black plastic. I reach over Hank, making him look up from his search and sit back to move out of the way. “Connor what the hell are you doing?” He asks as I carefully place my fingers in the vent, feeling around until they come in contact with a small piece of metal. Hank’s confused look turns to one of interest as I take out a small silver paperclip with a piece of paper attached to it. I hold it up to Hank before unfolding it. “A note? Why the fuck it was in there.” He leans closer to take a look. 

“It’s a list of addresses.” I turn the side with scrawled handwriting in blue ink towards him. “And, that fingerprint I’ve been searching for. Does the name [F/N] [L/N] sound familiar?”


	6. No Time

* * *

**[Your P.O.V.]**

I reach out to call the elevator only to pull my hand back before it touches the button, realizing I had almost forgotten about the little plan I made while at work. Well, it’s not much of a plan, only making a call and then crashing on my couch until I can come up with something real, but I always say it’s better to have a mediocre plan than nothing at all.

I step away from the elevator control panel and pull my phone out, tapping in my passcode while turning left to walk into the stairwell leading up to my apartment. 

After checking that it’s empty, I take two steps at a time to reach a small landing on my floor. An industrial-looking door separates the stairwell and hallway, it’s currently closed but a small window in the middle will let me see anyone coming. I dust off the edge of the landing before sitting down since a thin layer of dirt from people’s shoes coats the beige flooring. I’m not afraid to get a little dirty, but my work uniform is mostly white, and doing laundry is a pain. 

With fingers still cold from the walk here, I select the right contact, press call, and hold the phone up to my ear. As it rings, I lean against one of the poles of the stair’s railing. The lower rung stretches out at eye level as my head rests on the cool metal. It’s only a few seconds until the call connects. 

“[Y/N]! I’ve been wondering when I’d hear from you again,” says the chipper voice of my grandfather. 

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to check-in and see how you’ve been,” I say and my brain stalls for a second as my next half-formed word catches in my throat. What should I say? Oh hey gramps can you help cover up my illegal activities? Perhaps scrape together some bail money? You know, for that thing everyone tells me not to do in case I get caught. 

“But I’m calling because I need a favor,” I say, cutting him off right as he starts making small talk about his day. 

He chuckles under his breath after a pause, “Ah straight to the point as always. Well, it’s nice to hear from you. Even if it is just to make sure you’re still up and kicking, y’know.” He coughs, his voice becoming a little raspy from the effort. “So what can I do for you, kiddo?” 

“If some cops come around asking about the car don’t tell them anything alright?” I say and bite my lip. I hate to worry him, but it can’t be helped. 

“You mean that detective with the android?” He asks. I sit upright, causing my phone to nearly slip from my hand. Damn, these guys work quick. What else do they know? My grandfather lets out a huff at my prolonged silence, “Don’t worry, I didn’t rat on you. I may be old but I’ve still got my wits.”

I lean forward, clutching my phone to my ear as I prop my elbows on my knees, “Wait, did they ask about me?” A shadow appears in the window of the landing’s door a moment before the door itself opens. One of my neighbors, an older man, steps into the stairwell, looking at me with a raised brow until figuring out I’m on the phone. He holds up a hand in a “sorry to interrupt” way and I press myself against the railing to let him pass. 

“Yes, but they don’t seem to know who you are exactly. I would imagine they’re planning on paying you a visit,” my grandfather says. The sound of him shuffling the phone is loud coming from the speaker and I have to move the phone away a bit. I try to not hold it as tight as I realize I had a death grip on the small device. 

Paying me a visit? Then it’s settled, Tom needs to be out of my apartment tonight.

A real plan starts to take shape as I stand and walk over to the exit of the stairwell, still holding the phone up to my ear. I tell my grandfather, “I have to go now but I’ll call you soon?” 

“You better,” he says, “and stay out of trouble.” I can practically hear the eye roll.

“No promises,” I say, and we exchange rather long goodbyes as I walk the length of the hallway to the second to last door on the left. I hang up right as I reach my apartment. For a moment, I stand in front of it, lost in thought as I dig through my pockets for my key. 

This whole thing is a mess. They already know my name and if they had come here first instead of my grandfather’s, I can only imagine what would have happened. 

And I can’t believe just how wrong helping Tom went and knowing what I know now, I should have tried to get him out earlier. Waiting so long and trying to be careful proved to be quite the unfortunate choice in this case. Time has never been on my side and I can only get so far barely scraping along. The cops finding my car is infuriating and dangerous, especially considering it didn’t even take a whole day for them to get names and start questioning suspects. The only upside is they chose the wrong suspect first, and while that call did little to ease my anxieties about the contents of said car, at least I know I have time to get Tom to Jericho.

Right? 

I finally pull out my key but hear my name called out from behind me. I turn on my heel, expecting the worst. Expecting to see that android “detective” in his dumb suit and expecting his real detective partner, who at least looks the part, to be walking out of the elevator and past the stairwell, blocking my exits. 

Instead, as I lift my gaze I find my neighbor who lives across the hall and down a door waving me over.

With a deep breath and one last look at my front door, I decide there’s no present danger and Tom will be fine for a few more minutes. I shuffle my feet over to her. “Hey Ji-Hyun,” I say and she greets me with her award-winning smile. Her daughter Layla sits comfortably on Ji-Hyun’s hip, thumb in her mouth, and still wearing a plastic tiara from her 2nd birthday that took place weeks ago. 

“Why are you dragging your feet!” She shifts Layla to hold her with just one arm so that she can pull me into a hug. My shoulders stiffen but after taking a deep breath of her lavender scent I start to unwind. “I haven’t seen you in a few days.” 

The unasked question within that statement stays unanswered as I think of what to say. 

She steps back and holds me at arms length, her hand resting on my shoulder. “Y/N? You’ve been staying out of trouble right?” 

“I─ yes of course,” I say and offer up a smile. Her eyes search mine for a moment but soon turn to Layla as the little girl grabs a lock of her mother’s long black hair. Layla keeps her gaze on me, wary yet tired. I’ve never been good with kids, and I have a feeling she can tell. I try to actually smile but it just makes her turn her head away. Oh well. “Ji-Hyun, I hate to ask but could I perhaps borrow your car tonight?” 

Ji-Hyun scrunches her nose and uses her free hand to pat Layla’s back, “Sorry, you know I would but I have the night shift tonight. What’s up with yours? Brokedown again? I’m telling you, what you need-” She continues giving me the same advice she gives every time I mention my car, and much as I love Ji-Hyun, this conversation requires a minimum of ten minutes. Time I can’t afford to lose right now. 

“No, no, this time I uh got towed. I’ll just take the bus.” I tell her and take a few steps back towards my apartment, nearly tripping as I step on my own toes, “so I need to get going if I’m going to make it.” She shakes her head with a smile before saying goodbye and I hear her trying to get Layla to say “buh-bye” as I turn around. 

I walk back to my apartment, opening the front door quickly and stepping inside. A short look around reveals an empty living room and kitchen. Hopefully, nothing happened while I was at work, that's the last thing I need right now. “Tom?” I call out and head down the hall. Finding both my bedroom door and bathroom closed. “You still here?” 

“Yes,” the bathroom door opens right as I step in front of it, making me jump. Tom is standing there, one hand on the knob and the other rigid at his side. 

I step away, placing my back against the hallway wall. “Oh, what are you doing?” I ask, peeking around him and catching the smell of cleaning products, “are you-?”

“Cleaning. Yes.” He steps out into the hall, leaving the door ajar and forcing me to step closer to my bedroom to get out of the way. “Well, I was. I cleaned it awhile ago but I heard voices in the hall, I got out of view just in case it wasn’t you,” he continues.

I nod slowly. “Thanks. You didn’t have to,” I say while tugging at the collar of my work uniform, becoming very aware of the itchy tag. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy,” I add and try to remember the state of my house before leaving for work this morning. My usual habits of leaving the towel on the floor and my toothbrush on the counter were certainly not the only indicators of my solitary lifestyle. Not that he would care. He’s programmed not to. 

From the look on his face, I can see he is analyzing my expression, I wait for him to fill the silence between us, a silence that hangs heavy like fog on a dark road. I wait yet he simply stares with unblinking brown eyes. 

I crack first and ask “So are you ready to go to Jericho?” even though I know we have to leave soon to make the last bus. It's a long walk or an expensive taxi ride if we don’t hurry. 

“I suppose so,” he says in a low voice, “it’s not like I really know what I’m getting into.” His words carry the weight of a sigh. 

“I’ll explain more when we get there,” I say and place a hand on his arm to lead him to the living room. He pulls away from me, crossing his arms as he takes a step back before assuming his usual uptight stature. “Just wait a minute, let me change and then we’ll leave, okay?” Tom doesn’t say anything, turning to walk to the living room instead.

I head into my room and change into a casual yet decent outfit paired with a leather jacket that had been half hanging off the top of my dresser. It’s one of my favorite possessions. Sleek and stylish, with that badass “model sitting on a motorcycle in a magazine ad” charm. Warm too. 

After pulling on some boots, I move to stand in front of the full-body mirror leaning against one of my walls, forever waiting to be properly mounted, and take a moment to adjust my hair. 

As I fight it, a sinking feeling grows in the pit of my stomach. I feel bad about keeping Tom in the dark and clearly I’m not great at reassuring people. Despite it being familiar territory. I mean, how many times have I had to do this now? Ten? Fifteen? And I’m still struggling to find the balance of enough information and too much.

Although nothing too bad happened with all those cases, maybe a few bumps along the way, but I could handle it. I'm still here aren't I. Yet I have to admit an android stabbing a cop is new to me. 

I finish fixing my hair and stare at my reflection frowning back at me. 

I’m beginning to doubt I will ever get used to this part. 


	7. Wait And Listen

* * *

**[Your P.O.V.]**

After collecting Tom, who had been waiting on the couch for me to get ready, we head out to the nearest bus stop from my apartment. Which is honestly not that far away, but the walk seems long due to the cold shoulder I receive from him the entire five-or-so minutes of walking down the city street as the sun begins to set. 

I understand this whole hating-me-until-I-explain-why-I-basically-kidnapped-him thing, but some sort of company would be better than awkward silence.

We reach the stop, not soon enough, and I sit on the small metal bench, tugging at the cuffs of my jacket to adjust the sleeves against the cold. Tom leans his back on the plastic wall of the overhang behind the bench, looking out over the street. His face does little to reveal his emotions and when a man walks past and gives him a nod, he hesitates to find the normal response, ending in a bad attempt to copy the man. 

“Nervous?” I ask, only to receive side eyes in response. I laugh lightly to myself and when he continues to ignore me I lean back and settle in for the wait. Watching a few cars pass by and noting the presence of several people walking to their apartment buildings, looking overworked and in a hurry to grab some dinner to enjoy while propping their feet up. I can’t help but admit I am a little jealous, getting to actually relax after a long day at work. Although the thrill of what I do and just knowing I can change lives (artificial sure, but still real to me) for the better is too much to give up for a safe cozy life. 

However, some hot cocoa does sound nice right about now. 

Getting out my phone, I click the home button for the time and see the bus is a couple of minutes late. My right leg bounces, heel tapping the sidewalk. Normally I don’t mind waiting but the faster I get Tom to Jericho the safer he is. Also the quicker I get my hot cocoa. 

A streetlamp near the bus stop flickers to life and I lift my head up in time to see a woman and her android walk out of an apartment complex across the street. They descend the few steps to reach the sidewalk only for a man on a bicycle to clip the android’s arm and make it drop the woman's purse. Spilling the contents, which scatter and I witness at least one lip gloss container roll all the way to the road. It only takes a split second for the woman’s face to grow red with rage and she starts berating the android who apologizes and begins picking up the items as the man throws out a grunt of an apology and scurries away. 

From the corner of my eye, I see Tom stiffen and narrow his eyes at the woman, much like a hawk, and unconsciously tighten his hands into fists. “Tom...” I say hesitantly. 

“It wasn't their fault. Why is she yelling?” He looks at me with furrowed brows and a herd set frown before starting to make his way across the street. I jump up to go after him, calling his name. He makes it to the sidewalk with the woman, and I speed up to stop him before she notices, but a car gets in my way, separating us further. “What are you doing?” He says to her and she looks up at him, mouth slightly open in surprise at his sudden appearance. “It wasn’t their fault.” 

“Excuse me, young man-” She starts, turning on him as her android stands up after collecting her items. 

“Please step back sir.” The android cuts the woman off, “I am detecting aggressive behavior. If you do not stop I will have to call the police.” 

Tom waves off the android and opens his mouth to say something to the woman but I finally reach him and grab his arm before he can get a word out. I blurt out, “Sorry, sorry ma’am. He didn’t mean it, we’re leaving now.” She scowls and tugs her purse from her android's hands before walking off, with her android following suit. Occasionally she turns back to glare and I assume rant to her android. 

“What the hell?” I turn Tom to face me, dropping his arm so I can cross both of mine. 

He shakes his head, “She shouldn’t be so mean to her, she did nothing wrong. Just because shes an android-” 

I hold up a hand, “I know I know, but you are in no position to intervene. They almost called the cops.” I picture the detective and his android and take a deep breath, “What would you have done then?” 

He stares at me in silence. I feel my blood start to boil at this continued lack of talking to avoid his issues. I’m just about to lay into him for real this time when he looks past me, “ we missed the bus.” 

I turn just in time to see the bus driving off. Instinctively I step off the sidewalk to chase after it only to be met with a car honking as it passes right in front of me. I stop in my tracks and watch as the bus disappears around a corner. “Great, just absolutely peachy.” I reach up and rub my face with my hands, “that was the last one for the night.” 

Tom takes a hold of my arm to pull me back onto the sidewalk as yet another car honks, “Relax. We can just call a cab.” He takes a step back as I glare at him. He’s right but I still hate it, I’m not made out of money. 

The wait for the cab is even worse than the bus with the weather getting colder by the second, and the fact I now have to keep Tom at arm’s length in case he tries anything else tonight. Maybe I should just hold his hand. Man, how he would hate that. 

When the cab arrives, I take one last look at the apartment complex the woman and her android came from, memorizing the address for later. I slide into the back seat and am instantly grateful to have a heater and to be able to sit for a while without having to worry. I tell the driver to drop us off close to the location of Jericho but not too close. I wouldn’t want to give its location away if anyone were following us or somehow tracked out movements. With this paranoia in mind, I glance out the windows occasionally. Tom stares out of his, hands clasped in his lap in a rather android like manner. I suppose he could just look like a confident young man with too much on his mind. If I didn’t know better that's what I would think. 

Tom catches me staring and I quickly shift my eyes to the front, pretending to be interested in the sudden stop and go traffic we’ve found ourselves in. The cab driver seems to notice me in his rearview mirror as he mumbles something out taking a different route due to a crash up ahead. I sink lower in my seat as a cop car passes us on our right, casting the cab in blue and red. We turn down a different street after the way is clear. Tom’s eyes stay fixed on the window. 

It takes me a moment too long to figure out why. “Tom-” I start to say but get cut off. 

His hand darts to the door handle, “Stop the car.” The cabbie opens his mouth to object, most likely to say we were close to the destination anyway but he doesn’t get a chance. “I said stop,” Tom shouts and the cab driver pulls over just as he opens the door. I reach out to grab him as he exits the cab but I only catch the fabric of his hoodie. It takes no effort on his part to break free. 

“Goddammit Tom, get back here,” I try to clamber out after him but get stopped by the driver making sure we’re not about to stiff him. I get out my wallet and slap the last of my cash into his outstretched hand. Not waiting to get my change, I climb out through Tom’s open door, slamming it shut behind me and jogging to catch up to Tom’s long strides as he makes his way into the neighborhood the cab driver had stopped in front of. The same neighborhood the Righters live in. 

“Tom!” I yell in frustration and I nearly slam into him as he rounds on me, looking furious.

“Stop. Just stop, [Y/N].” He takes a step towards me and I hold my ground, glaring up at him. “I don’t need your help. In fact, I never asked for it.” 

“Yeah well you got it anyway,” I say and note his hands curl into fists at his sides as I continue, “You can’t go see Allie and I will drag you to Jericho if I have to.” I resist the urge to grab his arm and do just that. It’ll make him angrier, and while I’m not exactly out of shape, I have no chance against an android with nothing to lose. 

Tom turns his back to me and continues walking. Although not as fast as before. “Why not? She won’t call the cops. Trust me I would know.”

I take a few long strides to move in front of Tom, stopping him once again. “Maybe, but her husband would.” He gives me a disgruntled look before attempting to pass me which I quickly block. “Also they could’ve beefed up their security, gotten cameras?” 

“So?” He asks, still trying to get past me.

“So it’s not just you now.” I bring my hand up to my chest, tapping it to make my point. “My ass is also on the line.” He shakes his head to say something but I cut him off, “If you go to that house, I will follow you. Okay? And maybe I’ll get arrested, or maybe not. But you” I jab a finger into his chest, “you’ll definitely be deactivated.” He finally comes to a standstill, staring at me with a look I can’t quite distinguish. I sigh, “ I mean come on, how many times do we have to have this conversation? You know this Tom.” 

“Fine, take me to this Jericho place,” he says in a voice that makes me think he might be planning something.

* * *

[A/N]: The editing for this chapter is eh but that's because it's short and sort of an in-between chapter. 

Anyone else wondering when the hell we'll see Connor again? Talk about a slow burn lol 

Don't worry, there should be one more short chapter before we start getting into the meat of the story.


End file.
